🔥 “The Middle Line Cuts Me Open”  🔥

I wake each morning torn in two,

One side says rise, the other says you’ll never break through.

The right whispers, “Brother, the Creator is always right,”

The left hisses, “Look at your failures—you lost the fight.”

I sip my coffee, feel the burn in my chest,

Right line says, Thank Him, left line says, you’re a mess.

I drop the mug; it shatters like my fragile belief,

Right says, “This too is Providence,” left says, “your life is grief.”

I drive to work and someone cuts me off on the street,

Right says, embrace him, left screams, destroy the cheat!

I choke down the venom boiling inside,

Right says, “Annul,” left says, “open wide.”

I enter the Ten and see their faces glowing bright,

Right says, love them, left says, pick one to fight.

Right tells me, “The Creator is perfect; justify Him now,”

Left says, “You’re broken—tell Him to show you how.”

I read Baal HaSulam: Clean and righteous do not kill,

Right says, “Accept above reason,” left says, “you never will.”

Right tells me, “A judge sees only what stands in his sight,”

Left tells me, “Then look at yourself—you are not alright.”

Rabash stabs deeper: “Take the two lines and unite,”

Right says, go faith, left says, see your plight.

How do I hold peace when both scream in my ear?

Right says, “It’s love,” left says, “you should fear.”

The battle bleeds out into daily things I do—

In the grocery line, in traffic, in words I choose.

Right says, “Smile,” left says, “they don’t deserve your grin,”

Right says, “Bestow,” left says, “protect your skin.”

I drop to my knees when no one’s around to see,

Right says, “He’s with you,” left says, “you’ll never be free.”

I cry like a child who lost all he had,

Right says, “This is birth,” left says, “you’re just sad.”

But then—

In the smallest crack between the screams and the doubt,

A whisper breaks through the war inside, and it shouts:

The middle line is forged from both blood and grace,

A peace carved by fire in the darkest place.

Right says, “Cling to Him,” left says, “feel your lack,”

The middle line says, “Brother, hold both—don’t turn back.”

Right says, “He is good,” left says, “you’re wrecked and flawed,”

The middle says, “With both truths you finally walk toward God.”

The middle line is the prayer you choke through your tears,

When the Creator feels close and far in the same trembling breath of fear.

It is the heart ripped open but still choosing to mend—

The path where suffering kisses faith and calls it friend.

So here I stand—right arm in heaven, left arm in hell,

Trying to balance what no human tongue can tell.

Right says, “You’re His son,” left says, “you should hide,”

The middle line says, “Walk straight—He’s at your side.”

And if tomorrow the flood of water rises again,

If the doubts drown reason, and the storms cut through men—

I’ll take both lines, bind them tight, hold the pain as my guide,

For only a torn heart can let the Creator inside.